A scene from the street
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Poem:		41945
Another old man, left out alone, broke, hungry, and without a home. The man is poor, and yet he's rich, giving his last quarter, to the bum in the ditch. He had a home, he gave it to the needy, his wallet and shoes, stolen by the greedy. Now he is filthy, covered in hair, eyes pass, believing he's not there. Gave all he had, what was left, got took, body, beaten and frail, yet, his soul never shook. He is happy, he had nothing he'd miss, and the suffering, own all, that was his. Only a glance is all he'd give, don't want to talk, only live. Young punk, gives a dollar with ease, then asks the man, "Who is the beast?" Old mans' eyes, cover the bill like a kiss, he looks up, holds it out, and says, "This."
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